Shipwreck Island (5 page)

John shook his head and handed them back. “You can keep them.”

“Dad,” Sarah moaned. “Do something.” She lay down on her side, both hands curled under her head. She shut her eyes, but then the motion seemed worse.

Yvonna came up the stairs. “I made some ginger tea. Well, not exactly tea, just sugar and ginger, but it might make you feel better. I give it to the boys when they have sore throats.”

Sarah glared at her. “My throat is fine.”

Yvonna nodded. “I know. But some people also swear it's a cure for seasickness. Want to try?”

“Thanks,” said John. He took the mug and knelt by Sarah. “Honey? Want to try this?”

Sarah did not want to take anything from Yvonna, but she was desperate, not dumb. If there was the slightest chance that the tea would stop the rolling in her head …

She nodded.

Her dad helped her sit up and held on to her back as she took a cautious sip. She made a face. “It's like … spicy. But not.” She took another sip, then held the mug in both her hands, letting the steam curl up into her face. She breathed in, liking the smell. “I'll drink it.” Although she still felt like her head was about to fall off, the tea gave her something to think about besides being sick. She faced the front of the ship, trying to focus on the horizon, which was the only thing not moving as far as she could tell.

Ahab came and lay down beside her, snout on his outstretched paws. Sarah thought he looked meek and apologetic, almost as if he felt it were his fault for her being sick. Despite his overzealous greeting earlier, Sarah found it hard to hold a grudge, so she set her hand on his hefty back and rubbed. “Hey, boy.” He wore a navy blue collar with a silver anchor-shaped tag. Sarah held it so she could read the word on it.
AHABB
. “I thought it was spelled with only one
B
.”

“It is.” Captain Norm stopped and patted the dog's head. “Dumb company misspelled his name. He had a better tag, but he lost it on an island last year.” He scratched his chin. “In fact, I think he lost it on the island we're heading to.”

“Maybe we'll find it,” said Sarah.

Captain Norm smiled. “Maybe.” He tipped back his hat and pointed out at the water. “See anything interesting?”

“Like what?”

Captain Norm rubbed his bristled chin. “You never know. Dolphins. Whales. Mermaids.”

Sarah smirked. “Okay, I'll keep an eye out for mermaids.”

The skipper narrowed his eyes. “I'm serious.” He looked out at the waves. “I've been sailing since I was eighteen. Spent seven years in the Caribbean.” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah. “Met some interesting folks.”

“Mermaids?” Sarah rolled her eyes.

He pointed at her. “I met people who believed in them. Old men who had been on the seas for years. They had stories. They believed.”

Sarah frowned. “Do you believe in mermaids?”

Captain Norm grinned. “If you'd seen some of the things I've seen? You'd believe in just about anything.” He stood and headed back to the helm.

Nacho followed him, holding his Eco-Scout safety manual out in front of him. He asked, “How many personal flotation devices do you have on board? You need to have at least one for each passenger.”

Captain Norm pointed to the back of the boat, near Sarah and Ahab. “Check the locker there.”

Nacho went to the back. He wrapped his hand in the bottom of his T-shirt and lifted the creaky lid of the wooden locker. A strong, musty odor wafted out and Nacho made a face. He pulled out a misshapen, drab orange life jacket that was lumpier in some spots than others. He held the strap by two fingers, protected by the bottom of his shirt.

Sarah said, “That looks a thousand years old.”

Nacho leaned forward and looked into the locker, and his lips moved silently as he counted. “There's enough for all of us.”

“Disgusting.” Sarah shook her head. “I'm not wearing one.”

Her dad said, “You wouldn't be so picky in an emergency.”

Sarah shivered. “Can we not talk about it?” She took another sip of ginger tea.

Nacho set the life jacket on the deck in the bright sun and started pulling out the others. “Maybe airing them out will help.” After he had lined up the six life jackets, he pulled a bottle of hand sanitizer out of his fanny pack and drenched his hands. Then he opened up his manual and paged through. He called to Captain Norm, “Did you file a float plan?”

Captain Norm nodded.

Sarah asked, “What's that?”

Nacho said, “It tells where you're going, when you'll be back. In case something happens, someone will know where to look for you.”

Sarah looked around and saw nothing but ocean and a few distant islands. “How could anyone find anyone in this?”

“GPS,” replied Nacho. “It's not as hard as you think as long as you have some coordinates to start with.”

John asked Captain Norm, “Where exactly are we headed?”

Captain Norm pointed straight ahead. “There's a nice private island about a day's sail from here. I haven't been there for a while, but I think it'll be perfect for you all. We'll anchor and spend three days, then head back.” He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “If this breeze holds through the night, we should make it there about dawn tomorrow.”

As Sarah looked out onto the endless stretch of water, a large white bird with turquoise feet circled the boat. Sarah stared, noticing the bird's yellow eyes. “What is that?”

Captain Norm called out, “Blue-footed booby.”

Marco laughed.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Real mature.”

“It's a funny name.” Marco narrowed his eyes at her. “I just meant that there's no way there's a bird called that.”

As they watched, the bird sped like a missile toward the water and dove, surfacing a moment later with a fish in its mouth.

“Whoa!” Nacho whooped. “That was cool.”

Captain Norm said, “The blue-footed booby's nostrils are permanently closed because they dive so much. But there's also the masked booby, the brown booby, and the red-footed booby.” Captain Norm looked at Marco and tilted his head. “See for yourself. There's a bird book down in the hold.”

Sarah said, “That would require knowing how to read.” And then she felt a surge of nausea and leaned out over the rail, too busy puking to notice the scathing look that Marco shot her way.

 

8

Marco pushed open the hatch and stomped down the few stairs into the cabin, more to get away from everyone than to look for the stupid book about the stupid birds who lived on the stupid ocean. He sighed, and wished he were back in Texas with his friends. The light coming through the portholes was enough to see by as he got his first look at the space belowdecks.

His eyes widened.

The cabin was in much less disrepair than the rest of the boat, and actually looked habitable. Even rather nice, despite the slight musty odor. The front of the boat made a V, where there was a berth, the bed neatly made with a blue spread and a white pillow. He hoped that he could sleep there, although he suspected he would end up sharing with Nacho.

The galley was small, but seemed to have all the amenities of a regular kitchen. A large wooden basket of fresh pineapples, papayas, and tiny bananas sat on the counter, tethered by the handle with a red-and-black bungee cord. Just past the kitchen a red-and-white-checked tablecloth covered a rectangular table, which was bolted to the wall at one end, a green-cushioned banquette curving around three sides of it. A few steps beyond the table lay a sitting room, with two wide cushioned built-in benches that met in one corner and lay opposite a shelving unit that held a television.

Marco smiled. “Nice.” He stepped closer and pushed the power button, but nothing happened. He hoped there was nothing wrong with the television, that it just happened to be unplugged or something.

Several bookshelves sat above the television, and Marco stepped over to read the spines of the books. He half hoped to find another in the Harry Potter series, since he'd devoured the first during the flight from Shanghai to Sydney while everyone else slept. When they'd landed, he handed it to Sarah, with a flip, “I won't need this after all,” implying that he hadn't even cracked it open.

He wasn't exactly sure why, but he just didn't want her to know he'd read it. Maybe he didn't want to be a source of satisfaction for her; she'd made him feel like he was some kind of project.

He was getting the feeling that the trip was like a test of some sort for the Robinsons, to see if this new
family
was going to work. So far, really, it couldn't have been going any worse. Between the long flights, the lousy hotel, the suckfest of a boat … He grinned. The trip couldn't have been going any better, because the worse it went, the better chance there was that his new stepfather—and maybe even his mom—would give up on the marriage. And they'd end up back in Texas.

He perused the bookshelf, which held a dozen or so old, mildewed books, by authors with odd names like Jules Verne and Homer and H. G. Wells and Robert Louis Stevenson, but no Harry Potter. He found the bird book and pulled it out.

Marco peered into the small head, surprised to see sparkling silver metal fixtures on the sink and toilet, and clean white tile. “Mom will be happy about that.” On his way back to the galley, he noticed a small table and chair he hadn't seen before, with a bank of electronics above them. A headset lay on the table, and he picked it up and put it on. “Mayday, Mayday.” He grinned. Then he took off the headset and set it back on the table.

On his way back out, he passed a door with a sign that read
CREW ONLY.

Marco went over to the foot of the stairs, peered up, and then backed his way to the door. He took ahold of the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it twisted easily in his hand and he pushed the door open.

The berth wasn't very large, and held only a desk, a chair, and a bed, neatly made with a white bedspread decorated with a stitched dark blue anchor. At the foot of the bed sat a square object, concealed completely by a plain white sheet.

Marco leaned back out the door for a second, checking to see that no one had come down the stairs, then quickly stepped to the end of the bed. He lifted one end of the white sheet, revealing a large trunk made of a dark wood, intricately carved scenes all over it. He saw mermaids and islands and even what looked like a sea monster. Each of the carvings was inlaid with colorful abalone, and Marco couldn't resist touching one. The shiny surface was smooth and cool under his fingertips.

The latch for the trunk was closed, and Marco pressed his fingers against the mechanism, trying to spring it open.

Nothing happened.

“Marco?” His mother's voice came from above.

He dropped the corner of the sheet, backed out of the room, and shut the door. “Coming!” Then, clutching the bird book in his hand, he headed up to the deck.

 

9

By the time the sun was almost ready to kiss the horizon, Sarah had gotten over the worst of her nausea. While she certainly wasn't about to give credit for the improvement to the ginger tea, and especially not her stepmother, she was grateful to be feeling better.

Sarah and Ahab perched near the front of the boat as it sailed east, away from the sunset. Captain Norm was at the helm, eating his dinner, while the others were down in the cabin eating theirs.

Apparently, their captain fit the brochure description of
fully qualified chef,
because he had slipped away from steering the boat about an hour before, then reappeared, proclaiming, “Soup's on!”

Although she was feeling better, the thought of eating—even simply smelling food—was enough to make her gag, and she stayed above while the others descended to eat whatever gourmet meal awaited them. The ocean breeze felt good on her face, gradually cooling as the sun slipped below the waves. The first star appeared in the twilight, joined by others, rapidly multiplying as the sky darkened. The moon, half full, began creeping up the sky.

Sarah lay back on a towel and stared up at the constellations. Her dad had shown her a few on last summer's trip to the Caribbean, but she only remembered one. She held her hand up toward the sky, tracing the lines of the Southern Cross.

Ahab barked.

She looked at him. “What's a matter—” Then Sarah looked back up at the sky and froze.

The stars had vanished. As had the moon.

Ahab barked again.

Sarah sat up. Seconds before she had seen no clouds at all, but the stars were now … gone. How was that possible?

Captain Norm's face was visible in the green glow of the control panel. He stood there, not moving, staring up at the sky.

Ahab barked and barked, not stopping.

Over the din, Sarah asked, “What happened?”

Captain Norm shook his head. “I think we've run into some weather.”

The breeze picked up. Sarah set her hand on Ahab's head, but he wouldn't stop barking.

Captain Norm said, “I don't like the looks of this.”

Sarah stood up, almost losing her balance after sitting for so long. “Is it a storm?”

“Probably just a squall. You should go down in the cabin.” He took a long look at Ahab. “Take my dog with you. I'm going to furl the sail and turn on the autopilot. Can you send your dad up? I'll need a hand with the sail.”

Although she barely knew him, the tone in his voice was not to be argued with, so Sarah didn't even consider disobeying. She pulled on Ahab's collar, dragging him. Not an easy task, as he kept barking and looking back at the captain.

When they reached the hatch, Sarah said, “Come on. We have to get below.”

But Ahab grew quiet and sat back on his haunches. He looked over at his master and began whining.

Captain Norm called over, “Go on, Ahab. Go on.”